


i'll bear all this echoing (oh, what is it worth?)

by teenytabris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU: Padme lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mentions of Murder, Obi-wan becomes their weird uncle, Padme Amidala is stronger than anyone in the galaxy and I will fight you about it, Padmé raises the twins, sHe'S LOsT thE wiLl tO liVE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenytabris/pseuds/teenytabris
Summary: Anakin fell.Padme followed him to Mustafar.Obi-wan stopped him.But Padme did not die.--A Revenge of the Sith AU, where Padme did, in fact, have the will to live.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60





	1. my blood runs cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> So, I've had variations of this idea in my head ever since I was a child, because I could not and would not believe that Padme would just...lose the will to live? And that be a legit way to die? Because no, actually, she would.   
> Finally, a more concrete story idea began to take shape after perusing some excellent AU ideas on tumblr, and so from those prompts, this has sprung up, fully formed!
> 
> Ratings/Warnings may change as things go on, I am just writing this as I go. Aiming for at least a once a week update, however!
> 
> Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this!

Senator Bail Organa (or was it former Senator? He supposed he should consider he might be out of a job) felt twenty years older. The end of the Clone Wars was supposed to have been a cry of victory, a triumph. A breath of relief. Not this. Not him desperately trying to contact old friends, trying to find out which of his fellows had survived Palpatine’s ascension. Not to even think of the Jedi Masters, who had been so blinded by the coming darkness, they could not see their own impending doom. 

Stars, what a mess. Bail leaned forward in his seat, rubbing hands down his face. 

“Sir?” Captain Yorriff sounded concerned. That was nice, kind even. To be worried about one tired man in the face of such confusion. 

“I’m all right, Captain. Are we nearly ready?” Bail replied, sitting up. Space glittered through the bridge windows, seemingly unaware of the carnage taking place with in her. 

“Hyperspace coordinates are locked. The Queen is preparing a private space port under the palace to admit us, rather than use the space port.” 

Bail smiled. “Breha has always been the smarter of us,” he said, and his heart ached longingly for home. 

“I refuse to comment on that either way, sir.” 

Bail laughed, but it was a grim, harsh sound. Laughter was not welcome in the galaxy this moment. Not when everything was blood and death. He stood, feeling his bones creak. He was not an old man, but at this moment he felt as if the galaxy itself was weighing on him. 

Stars knew how Obi-wan felt. How Master Yoda felt. 

“I’ll check on our passengers. I’ll leave you to control things up here,” Bail said, and got a salute in reply. 

Bail made his way out, hearing the door hiss shut behind him, and tried to keep his back straight as he walked. Keep the demeanour of a Senator, even if that title no longer was his. There were too many broken hearts on this ship, and he was determined to try and keep a level head for them, at least. He still had his home, his family. 

Though, thinking on family, his stomach turned with grief as he turned the corner, coming up on the medical wing. 

Obi-wan stood guard outside, one hand on his head, looking for all the world like he was lost to his own thoughts, but Bail knew the Jedi better. They always had one hand on the Force, awareness that stretched around them even should they not be focused. Bail was no Jedi, but he knew guilt, and he knew exactly what propelled Obi-wan to stand outside, and not sit within, and why anyone who dared approach the room with ill intent would make the last, worst mistake of their lives.

“You look tired, my friend,” Bail said as he drew close, and heard the slight breath of laugh. 

“I think that’s true for all of us, Bail,” Obi-wan said, lifting his head to make eye contact, crossing his arms. Bail saw one hand flex, like it was reaching for his lightsaber. 

Or perhaps that of his Padawan. His friend. 

“You should rest. There will be time for planning later,” Bail urged gently, and Obi-wan turned to look at the closed door, like he could see through it. “They are safe here. I’ll sit in with them.” 

Obi-wan was so silent and still, Bail wondered if he hadn’t heard him. But then: “If he found them, did- did anything, I could never forgive myself.” 

Bail’s heart broke for the Jedi Master, and he knew why Obi-wan did not step through the door, though he had been by Padme’s side through the birth. Bail could not sense emotion the way the Jedi could, but he could feel Obi-wan’s grief and guilt as if it were solid between them. 

He stepped closer, and rested his hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “They’re safe, at least for now. Anything else, we have time to plan. Please, Obi-wan. Rest. At least for a while. You’re no good to anyone tired.” Perhaps a low blow, but Bail worried about the shadows under Obi-wan’s eyes as much as the way his shoulder’s sagged with the weight of what he had seen, what he had had to do. 

Obi-wan nodded, after a while, and moved away from the door, clapping Bail’s shoulder in return. “If they require anything-” 

“I’ll page you. Please, make use of the ridiculous staterooms.” 

Obi-wan raised two fingers in a wave, and walked down the hall, disappearing around the corner, and Bail felt something in his chest warm at the level of trust Obi-wan had in him. To let his guard down around those he believed he failed the most. 

And even with that, Bail still steeled himself before knocking on the door. “Padme?” He called, and then hit the button to open it when she didn’t reply. 

She was silhouetted against the window, the lights of the room dimmed. She was seated, thank goodness, and two bassinets floated on either side of her. Bail could just see a little hand curled around each of hers. 

“Padme?” Bail tried again, stepping further into the room, not wanting to inflict company on her if she didn’t want it. 

While he could empathise with the Jedi’s losses, Bail could not have withstood what Padme had been through. When Obi-wan had brought her onto the ship, limp and barely conscious, Bail almost began grieving one of his dearest friends. But Padme had always been stronger than anyone believed, even with her notoriety. Not that anyone should be strong enough to withstand what she did. 

There was a soft sound, and then Padme turned to look over her shoulder. Lang, greasy brown hair spilled from her shoulder down her back, and the tear tracks on her face glistened in the light of the many stars. “You’ll have to forgive my moment of weakness, Bail,” she said, and Bail could feel tears of his own begin. 

He crossed the room quickly, to kneel at her side, and hold her, without disturbing the babies’ grip on her hands. “Not weakness, Padme, never weakness. How could anyone begrudge your tears?” He whispered, and felt her press her face into his neck. Warm water slipped down, but she still made only the softest sobs. 

If their positions were reversed, if Bail had to have faced his Breha, he would be screaming at the injustice of the galaxy. He would be monstrous in his grief. Padme had always been the best of them. 

He held her for some time, letting her cry into him, and wishing he wasn’t so useless, that he couldn’t just lift this from her shoulders. She was a new mother, and here she was, suffering under the loss of her dreams. The loss of a life that had nearly been hers. 

The loss of a galaxy she worked for over a decade to protect. 

Slowly, Padme began to pull away, and Bail let her go, though kept a hand on her side, hoping that at least the small contact could be grounding for her. She gently slid her hands free from her twins, kissing their little hands in apology, and wiped her eyes with the back of her palms. 

“How are they?” Bail asked, thinking that the twins were at least a safe topic to talk about. He didn’t want to break her moment away from her grief. 

Padme smiled at her babies. “Luke didn’t stop wailing for a good few hours, and Leia will grab anything you put near her hands. They both scream like demons when you try to part them. This is the quietest they’ve been for some time.” 

“The droid checked them?” 

Padme nodded. “It’s keeping them separated for now, just in case of anything. It-” The word seemed to catch in Padme’s throat, and she made an aborted motion, like she wanted to touch her neck. Like there would be a bruise there. Bail gently stroked her shoulder, giving her time to say it, or let it go. “It was concerned that they might be oxygen starved.” The words sounded like they were being dragged over barbs. 

“Padme-” Bail said, softly, but Padme interrupted. 

“No. No, I won’t tiptoe around it. I don’t need to be protected from it. I-” Padme’s voice was still quiet, but Bail could hear the familiar fierceness he’d always admired her for in it. “It happened. And everything that preceeded it and followed it happened. I saw my husband slip down a path, but could not see it for what it was until then. And I cannot believe that it was the same man who I married. I won’t.” Padme leaned her head into her hands, her elbows propped her knees. Bail ran what he hoped was a comforting hand down her spine. “He was having visions. He said he saw me die in childbirth. That I was screaming in pain, calling for him.” 

Bail had heard those very screams from outside the medical wing, each one feeling like a shot to the gut. 

“And he was so afraid of it coming true, that he made it come true. Though, I suppose, I do sit here. Living. Someone should tell the Jedi that they’re visions aren’t the most reliable.” 

“Obi-wan would agree with that,” Bail said, hearing the smallest bit of dry humour in her tone. “He’s been outside, since just before you woke up.” 

“I know. Not that I could sense him, but...” Padme pressed her fingers into her temples. “He thinks I hate him.” 

“You don’t?” 

“What reason would I have to hate him?” Padme asked, turning to look at Bail, challengingly. 

Bail let her, knowing she had something she wanted to make clear. Perhaps to Obi-wan himself. “He killed Anakin.”

Padme shook her head, then kept her look straight on Bail’s. “You and I both know that isn’t true. Obi-wan killed whatever creature the Emperor made of him. Make no mistake, Palpatine killed my husband. Palpatine killed Anakin Skywalker. Obi-wan just let his body rest.” 

If Obi-wan didn’t somehow hear her words burn through the Force, Bail would show him this footage himself. Padme looked battle-ready, despite how tired, sick, and wan she looked. She was ready to beat her certainty into anyone who thought otherwise, Obi-wan himself included. 

“I pity you, raising these two,” Bail said, smiling, and Padme tilted her head at him, frowning. “If they have one tenth your determination, you’re not going to be able to tell them anything.” 

Padme smiled, and it was such a welcome sight, that Bail felt a few tears spill over. Padme’s hands, coarse from three years of battle, were gentle wiping them away. “They will be the most stubborn children in the galaxy, of that everyone can be certain.” 

“Amidala’s are always to be feared in a courtroom, stateroom, throne room.” 

Padme turned a sadder smile on her twins. “I had hoped they would be Skywalkers. Perhaps it would be safer that they weren’t.” 

Bail wrapped an arm around Padme’s waist, and hugged her softly. “They’re welcome to be Organa’s, too. My family is yours, Padme.” 

Padme leaned her head on top of his. “I can’t tell you how much that means, Bail. Truly. I’m blessed to have a family in yours.” 

Bail squeezed her in reply, and they let silence fall between them, watching the twins as they gently stirred, hands seemingly reaching for each other. 

\--

It was in the very early hours of the morning when Queen Breha of Organa was woken, and informed her husband’s ship was landing. She had been up, a warm coat on, whatever shoes she could find slipped on, and running through the palace in a matter of moments, her most trusted staff hurrying behind her. 

Even with the seriousness of the situation, and the way things were in the galaxy around them, Breha could not help feeling like a young girl again, the Princess, darting through her palace with the kind of glee only children had. 

The private landing pad was tucked behind a waterfall, and had been used mostly for undercover Republic agents to hide out, should they have to flee Separatist space. Now, it harboured something that was even more illicit. The craft was just finishing landing procedure as Breha and her staff arrived, and as soon as the engines powered down, the ramp was lowered, and Breha breathed in relief as her husband practically ran out. 

She ran to meet him, and let him sweep her up. She clung to him, finally feeling something right click into place. “Even with all your messages, I was still so afraid, Bail,” she murmured to him, and felt him kiss her hair. 

“I’m here, my love. I’m not going anywhere else yet,” he said, and his words, said in person, finally settled what his recorded messages hadn’t. 

Bail gently placed her back on her feet, and she kissed him, quickly and chastely. “The rooms upstairs are prepared. How many do we have?” Breha said, back to her royal self. 

Bail’s face turned a little ashen, and Breha braced herself. “Just the two. And the babies.” 

“No one else?” Breha heard her voice shake a little, and did not blame herself for one small slip up. 

“Not yet. We’ll know more once the dust settles,” Bail replied, and Breha nodded. They had to put this aside, at least for now. They couldn’t lose themselves in searching for those who might already be dead. Better to focus on the living. And in that stead. 

“Then we’d better get them all upstairs. They need rest and food,” she said, and Bail nodded, smiling at her, in that fond way he had when she took control. 

Bail stepped back beside her to lead her to the ramp, and as they drew closer, Padme Amidala and Obi-wan Kenobi emerged, both cradling a small bundle to their chests, though Master Kenobi was using his other arm to prop up Padme. 

“Master Kenobi,” Breha greeted when he was closer. 

Obi-wan bowed, without disturbing the bundle in his arm, or letting go of Padme. “Your Majesty. Thank you for giving me asylum. I hope it causes you no trouble.” 

Breha waved off his words. “You are welcome here always, Master Kenobi, as a friend of Padme’s and ours. And, Padme,” she said, opening her arms to her friend. Padme stepped into her arms, her forehead dropping onto Breha’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Padme. But I am so glad you are safe.” 

“I fear I haven’t the strength to rehash the events just yet,” Padme said, lifting her head. 

“Padme, you don’t have to do anything beside rest and recuperate.” The bundle in Padme’s arms gave a little wiggle, and Breha smiled at it. “And which one is this?” 

Padme unfolded the cloth, enough that Breha could see the baby’s face. “This is Leia. And this-” Obi-wan stepped a little closer to Breha, and revealed the other twin. “-is Luke.” 

Breha cooed softly, and was surprised by how sharp the newborn’s eyes were. “They’ve got your look, Padme,” she said, smiling at her. 

Padme’s smile looked a little brittle in reply. “I’m hoping they take more after me, at least for their own safety.” She sounded exhausted. 

“Hush, Padme. We have more than enough time for talk later. Right now, let us take care of you, and the children. You’re safe now.” Breha wrapped her arm around Padme, and Padme sagged into her a little. Breha was grateful that for once, Padme did not insist on others before herself, and lead her friend towards the exit, Bail and Master Kenobi following behind. 


	2. dissolving like the setting sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello there!
> 
> so i'm going a little bit with freeform chapters, so some might be longer than others, and vice versa. It's mostly because I don't want to put too much pressure on myself to produce novel-chapter length pieces every week. I hope you all understand <3

When Padme woke, she could almost believe that she was on Naboo. Soft yellow curtains billowed gently in the breeze, blowing in through open doors. The sun was bright and golden as it stretched across the floor, just touching one side of the huge bed. If it wasn’t for the vista of mountains dominating the horizon, rather than lakes, she could’ve lived in the fantasy for just a little bit. 

And if she hadn’t woken on what had been Anakin’s side of the bed for three years. 

She turned her face into the pillow, screwing her eyes tight, feeling the same impotent rage she’d felt since Obi-wan had landed on the balcony of their Coruscant apartment. Their home. What should’ve been the twins home. The worst part of that anger, was not how it swallowed her, but how useless it was. There was no enemy that could be felled by the rage of Padme Amidala now. She could rage as much as she cared to, but the Sith would find her no difficult problem to quell. 

Once the rage subsided, came the sadness. Bone deep, and cold. She’d been to ice planets during the Clone Wars, had felt chill so deep that she thought she would never be warm again, but this cold, this cold was like a shroud. Perhaps death would’ve been easier, than living with the memories of Anakin’s yellow eyes burning a hole through her heart. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t the man she loved, but they shared his face, and it was so hard to turn away from those eyes, his look, when his hand had reached out to her, and for one fool moment she thought to take it in her own. 

But she won’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t fall prey to her fears and grief. She was not Jedi, and so did not fear falling, but she had never let her emotions command her. She knew herself, knew her mind, and she would fight. She wasn’t sure how to yet, but the war was just beginning, and Padme was already a veteran. Even better, she knew how the now-Emperor worked. 

And she had something very much worth fighting for, even just for herself. 

With that, she lifted herself up, feeling a little shaky with how much she slept, but felt stronger for the rest. She pulled the covers back, and stepped onto the floor, gently easing herself up off the bed, her body only protesting a little. After a couple wobbly steps, she was able to pad quietly across the floor, and pulled back the gauzy curtain that separated the bedroom from the sitting room. 

Next to a plush couch were two proper bassinets, most likely hand-carved, and on the couch outself, Breha sat. She was watching the bassinets with soft, fond eyes, and Padme smiled. She coughed a little, so as not to startle Breha, and her smiled widened a little at the apologetic look Breha had on her face. 

“I tried not to wake you,” she whispered. 

Padme shook her head. “And you succeeded. A very stealthy entrance,” she assured, and crossed the room to sit on the arm of the couch, to watch as her babies stirred, Luke sporting a mighty frown for a newborn. 

“They’re getting a little fussy. I think they might be hungry, but I didn’t want to take them without waking you,” Breha said, her hand resting on Padme’s side.

Padme gripped her friend’s shoulder, smiling in thanks, though feeling a little guilt in her heart. She did that, because she guessed rightly that it would send Padme into a furious panic. “It’s not that I don’t feel we are safe here, Breha,” she said. 

Breha looked at her, her face understanding, and sad. “I know, Padme. I may not be a mother myself, but the terror of letting your guard down for a moment, only to lose what you wanted to protect most, that I feel very strongly.” Breha looped her arm around Padme, hugging her gently. Padme wrapped her arm around Breha’s shoulders, and rested her head on the top of Breha’s. The contact, the comfort, was enough to wash away the last vestige of her dark thoughts, at least for now. 

“I know you do. I suspect any sane system feels something like that right now,” she said, and felt Breha’s shoulders stiffen. That Padme felt in her soul. 

They parted after a moment, and Padme reached a hand to Luke, to gently touch the deep furrow in his tiny brow. He let out a soft little whine, like a puppy, and Padme smiled wider than she had in months. 

“There was also that I didn’t want to make any decisions for you,” Breha said, and Padme turned her head to look at her. “I didn’t want to assume either way, so I did send out for synthetic replacement milk.” 

Padme looked down at her twins, and then at herself, how thin she had become. “Perhaps while I am recovering, it would be the better option,” she said, and Breha ran a comforting hand down her spine. 

“Rest, some food, and once you’re not a strong gust of wind away from tumbling, we can see which one of them is a biter,” Breha said, and Padme had to stifle a sudden chuckle. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, turning big, mock-worried eyes on Breha. “It will be both, I’m telling you now. At least my poor nipples will be symmetrical.” 

Breha had to clamp a hand over her mouth, eyes screwed tight with mirth, and yet one giggle broke through, enough that Luke finally let out the wail he’d been holding in. 

“Oh, shhhh, come here, darling boy,” Padme cooed, lifting him out of the bassinet- 

Only for Leia to echo his cry. 

“A matched set, truly,” Breha said, taking Leia up, and bring her close to her brother. They seemed to settle, snuffling instead of crying, their hands curling around each other’s. 

Padme felt tears well up in her eyes. Happy ones. “Very much so.” She kissed both their downy heads. “Now, we’d better get them fed before they wake up the rest of the palace.”

“Luke’s already got the lungs for it,” Breha said, and Padme laughed.


	3. someone cure him of his grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heeeyyyy...heeeeeey...........how y'all doing?
> 
> so uh, this year has been a trip, huh? yeesh.   
> things have Not Been Good for anyone, but also for me personally, it's been rough mentally. I really did think i would have to abandon all my wips. luckily, i've got lovely friends who have been encouraging me to take baby steps back into creative pursuits, and i had to update this one first. 
> 
> hopefully this is a sign of things on the turn!

Padme heard someone walk through the garden, still, and then keep walking. She guessed it was Obi-wan, coming to the very spot he had been sitting in for three days. The three days that they had been guests in Alderaan’s palace. She’d seen him at some meals, sometimes passed him in the halls, but for the most part he had kept to himself. 

And she would not have it any longer. 

“Come sit with me?” She offered, and a moment later, Obi-wan sat next to her on a bench, sheltered in the shade of a tree. Padme turned to look at him, and he seemed...old. Tired. Perhaps a little ashamed. “It’s beautiful here. I can see why you’ve made it your sanctuary.”

“It offers a peaceful place to think,” Obi-wan said, carefully. 

“And there is much to think on. So much changed in so little time,” Padme replied, watching as his face grew sadder. 

“True,” Obi-wan said, and it seemed that he would let the conversation lie there. While Padme was not a Jedi, could not read his thoughts, she could guess the trouble that plagued him. 

“Obi-wan, you have to know that I do not blame you,” she offered, and saw how Obi-wan screwed his eyes shut, turned away. She had been right. 

“You should. I should’ve been there for him.” His voice was sadder than she’d ever heard it, and it made her own heart break with his. 

“We both should’ve. But he should’ve shared his worries with you. He had to have known- some part of him knew that you would not judge us,” Padme tried to soothe. 

Obi-wan seemed to close even further on himself. “I told him to trust the Council, despite knowing that he never could while they held him at arm’s length. And he would never trust anyone were it not given in return.” 

“He wanted to, you know. He wanted to make you proud.” 

Obi-wan rubbed a hand over his face, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Padme wanted to reach out, touch his shoulder, try and take some of that hurt. “I was so proud of him. Endlessly so. But I was not the teacher he deserved. Qui-gon would’ve-” Obi-wan started, but Padme would not let him finish that sentence. 

“Qui-gon trusted you, more than any other Jedi. You were the only teacher Anakin would’ve ever listened to. And don’t you dare think you turned a blind eye to his pain. You know as well as I do that Palpatine’s claws were sunk deep in him by then.” Padme was shocked to hear the anger in her own voice, and turned away from Obi-wan to breathe, trying and calm the racing of her heart. Her anger would be impotent, for now. She could use it when they all decide what their next move was. 

“Anakin would’ve done well to learn that from you.” Padme blinked, and looked back to Obi-wan. He was smiling at her, admiringly. Padme smiled back. 

“I’ve been in politics since I was fourteen. One learns to calm one’s temper,” she said drily.

Obi-wan nodded seriously, though the smile was still on his face. “I see that. I wish more of them would learn.” 

“I suppose the Emperor won’t have much need for the Senate anymore,” Padme said, the thought suddenly seizing her. “He would have no need for it, in his new Empire?” 

“I imagine he would keep it for show, if nothing else. Placate those who did not vote for this Empire,” Obi-wan said, casting his look back to the garden. Weariness lay heavily over him again, and Padme was angered that she was the one who put it there. “Will he let the neutral systems keep their neutrality, I wonder?” 

“I suppose in the same vein, will he let the Outer Rim remain unpatrolled?” 

Obi-wan sighed. “And I suppose it is a waiting game to see what his plan moving forward is.” 

Padme moved closer, to grip his shoulder. Obi-wan turned to face her, a question in his look. “At least you ensured Anakin would no longer be his tool.” 

“Padme...” Obi-wan said, and Padme was nearly brought to tears, seeing his own glitter in his eyes. “You can’t be this forgiving of your husband’s murderer.”

“I’m not. But you are not he. You and I both know that Palpatine brought him low long before you did. I...I can’t say that I wanted you to do what you did. But if I had to choose, it would break my heart, but I would see him dead before I would see him fall.” Padme felt breathless, dizzy, after her words, and gripped her own knee, as if that would steady her. Obi-wan’s hand wrapped over hers, and he squeezed gently. 

“Would it be awful to say I feel the same?” He said quietly. 

Padme shook her head. “In his heart, I know that Anakin would agree.” 

They passed a few quiet moments, holding each other in shared grief, before Padme coughed once, and pulled away. “I won’t intrude on your meditations any longer, Master Kenobi. I wanted only to tell you that you cannot sit up here and self-flagellate, thinking I hate you. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you can actually read my thoughts.” 

Obi-wan’s laugh seemed to surprise him, and Padme smiled to see his face brighter. “I promise that I won’t put my guilt onto you any longer, Senator Amidala.” 

“See that you don’t,” she said seriously, and then hugged her friend tightly. “And please come see the babies. I feel Luke sometimes would crawl out here just to find you.”

“Precocious thing,” Obi-wan said, approvingly. “I will.” 

“Good.” Padme stepped away, and smiled once more at him. “I will see you at dinner, then.” 

Once she was nearly at the door, to return to the palace, she looked back once, to see Obi-wan sat cross legged under the tree, face turned up to the sky, his face soft. Less tired than she had seen him recently.

Feeling lighter herself, she went back inside.


End file.
